


into the dark

by nikkiRA



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Felix is morosexual I don't make the rules, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 22:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21064025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: The door to the training grounds opens. Felix lifts his head to see Ingrid walk in. She stops when she sees Felix and Dimitri on the ground. “I thought you were training.”“We were,” Dimitri says. “Now we’re talking about how Sylvain loves Felix.”“I wish I had my fucking sword right now,” Felix mutters. Ingrid takes a seat next to him, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her cheek on them.“Everyone heard it, it isn’t a secret,” she says. Felix covers his face with his hands and screams.





	into the dark

**Author's Note:**

> meryl streep in devil wears prada voice: a fic about almost dying titled after the death cab song? groundbreaking

He has just struck down a particularly irritating mage when Ingrid lands in front of him. Her hair is messy and there is blood spattered all over her. He isn’t surprised by any of that -- that’s pretty much what they all look like post battle. The thing that causes his heart to stutter is the look on her face. 

“What --”

“It’s Sylvain.”

She doesn’t need to say anything more; he climbs up behind her, holding her waist tightly, willing his heart not to stop. 

* * *

The battle had taken place near the Monastery. The Professor had taken a group of students to scout after reports came in that the Imperial Army had been seen near the Oghma Mountains, and a group of thieves had moved in almost immediately after; a dirty trick to get the Monastery’s most feared soldiers out of the way. The thieves hadn’t expected that the Prince and a group of other students had stayed behind, but despite their surprise advantage it hadn’t been an easy battle. The thieves were well organized and brutal. They fought like they had nothing to lose. 

Because of the proximity to Garreg Mach they had managed to transport Sylvain to the infirmary. When Felix and Ingrid arrive he is on one of the beds, surrounded by the healers the Professor hadn’t taken with her -- Mercedes has her hands over Sylvain’s stomach while Marianne has her fingers pressed to Sylvain’s temples. Magic glows between them; Mercedes is concentrating hard, eyes slits in her face, while Marianne has hers closed, likely praying as she works. Annette has one of Sylvain’s hands, her hands glowing with magic as well, and Felix is so thankful for the way the Professor had taught so many of her magically gifted students to heal. Felix moves into the room, pushing past Caspar. When he gets a clear view of Sylvain in the bed, he physically recoils; a hand shoots out to steady him, and a wall like presence at his back suggests Dimitri is behind him, holding him up. He is too shocked to care. 

Sylvain is convulsing on the bed. His shirt has been ripped open, revealing a gash on his abdomen. It’s hard to look at, so Felix looks away, but there is nowhere safe to look -- Sylvain’s veins are dark, stark against his skin. His eyes are open and bulging up at the ceiling. It’s the most horrible sight he’s ever seen. Beside him, Ingrid lets out a sob. Felix steps forward, eyes on Sylvain’s face, listening to his desperate gasps for air. He pushes between Marianne and Mercedes. 

“Sylvain --”

“Felix, stop --”

“What’s wrong with him --”

“Your Highness, can you get him out of here, please,” Mercedes calls out, and Felix feels strong arms wrap around him as Dimitri hauls him away. Felix wrenches away, pushes past Dimitri and runs into the hall, straight into Hanneman’s office, where he grabs the garbage can and vomits. A hand rests on his back, rubbing across his shoulder blades as he heaves into the garbage can. Even when he’s finished he stays bent over, chest heaving, shaking violently. He doesn’t know who came to comfort him; the hand seems too big to be Ingrid’s. 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands. He almost recoils again when he sees Dimitri. He tries to feel anger about this, or annoyance, tries to come up with a scathing remark, but Dimitri is -- well, Felix doesn’t know, really, where they’re at, how he feels, but all he can manage is to say, hoarsely, “What happened?”

Dimitri clears his throat. “Poison on the blade,” he says gently. Felix’s stomach drops. He thinks of Sylvain’s dark veins. Thinks about how he wasn’t there. 

“I normally fight beside him,” he says. His voice cracks. “We had to -- we weren’t at full strength, so I didn’t --”

“Don’t do that,” Dimitri says firmly. “Trust me, Felix. You will drive yourself crazy.”

Felix brings a hand up to his face, wiping his mouth again. His hand is shaking. He thinks he might collapse. Dimitri can clearly tell, because he says, “Let’s go into the Captain’s old office. There is more room to breathe.”

Felix goes on wobbly legs, and Dimitri keeps a hand on his back the entire time. Felix can’t bring himself to shrug it off. Dimitri had been his first friend. He had been his friend before he’d been his king. 

“The healing magic,” he says. “Is it not working?”

Dimitri sighs heavily and takes a seat beside Felix on the couch. “Whatever poison was on the knife… it must have been something advanced, something infused with magic. It’s not reacting to the healing spells. It’s like it’s fighting back. Our healers are using all of their magic trying to keep it at bay, and I have Dedue and Ignatz in the library looking for information, but Mercedes, Marianne and Annette are not going to be able to keep this up much longer.”

“I know some magic,” Felix says. “The Professor made me learn basic healing.”

Dimitri nods. “That will help. What we need is for the Professor to get back. Linhardt and Hanneman might know more about the poison, and with Manuela and Flayn to take over the healing…” Dimitri trails off and drops his face into his hands. “But I don’t know how much longer Sylvain can…” He shakes his head and lets the sentence drop. Felix leans back on the couch and stares up at the ceiling. He still can’t stop his hands from shaking. He wants to go back in to the infirmary, wants to see Sylvain again, but the idea of seeing him like that, seizing and gasping for air… he doesn’t know if he can. 

Before Felix can say anything Ingrid comes into the room. He stands up immediately, shaky legs be damned. 

“Is he -- he isn’t --”

“No, no,” Ingrid says hurriedly. “It’s just -- well, he’s calling for you.”

Felix doesn’t even process these words for a moment, not until Dimitri stands up and pushes him forward. Felix nearly trips over his feet on the way, following Ingrid back into the infirmary. He kneels at the side of the bed, beside Annette and across from Marianne. He nods to her, and she steps back, panting from the work; Felix brings a hand up to Sylvain’s forehead, brushing the hair out of his face and then summoning his own magic, taking Marianne’s place. 

“Sylvain,” he says. He can’t imagine Sylvain calling for anyone right now; the healing is clearly doing something, since he is no longer convulsing, but his veins are still stark beneath his skin and his breathing is still laboured. He’s sweating hard, but Felix doesn’t pull his hand away. “Hey. Sylvain.”

Sylvain opens his eyes; they’re alarmingly bright. His mouth quirks when he sees Felix, a bare approximation of a smile. “Hey bud,” he says. His voice sounds like it’s been scraped over rocks. “How you doing?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Felix says. “Don’t talk.”

“No, I need -- need to tell you. The promise, you know? Might end up breaking it.”

Felix’s heart stutters. “Don’t --”

“Just listen, you jackass. Want to tell you… love you, you know?”

Felix’s magic falters for a moment; Sylvain clenches his teeth until Felix concentrates again. “Sylvain --”

“No, just listen. Sorry to spring it on you. Just wanted to tell you.”

“Stop. Stop saying it like goodbye.”

Sylvain gives that quirk of his lips again and closes his eyes. Felix swallows around a lump in his throat and brings his other hand up to cup around Sylvain’s neck, pouring more of himself into his healing spell. He thinks he might be sick again, but he forces himself to stay calm, pouring all of his strength and training into his magic, refusing to think about the words Sylvain had just said to him. 

He looks up to see Ingrid across from him. Her eyes are red rimmed and intense. He shakes his head; he can’t deal with this now. 

“Stay with me,” he mutters, hoping everyone is too focused to hear. “You have to stay.”

* * *

Felix gives all he has into his healing spell, fighting to stay conscious as he fights the poison spreading through Sylvain’s body. Sylvain doesn’t look any better, but he doesn’t look any worse, either. Annette had to be pulled away, but Mercedes is still there, with her shaking hands and wavering magic. Felix does not spare a thought to her or how grateful he is; he can only pull on his ever dwindling magical power to try and keep Sylvain alive. 

He does not know how long he stays like that, minutes, hours, days, but eventually Dimitri is pulling his hands away. Felix fights back, but he has no strength left in him, and Dimitri is easily able to lift him and drag him away. 

“Stop -- let me go.”

“Felix, they’re back. The Professor, and everyone -- let them handle it. You have nothing left.”

Felix lets himself slump into Dimitri’s arms; Dimitri brings him to the other bed and Felix lets himself collapse into it beside Mercedes. He sees the Professor and Linhardt talking, and he sees Manuela and Flayn perched over Sylvain, and then he lets himself pass out. 

He wakes up a short while later, still feeling weak. He wants to slip back into unconsciousness, but he needs to know if Sylvain is okay. If he’s still --

The idea that Sylvain could be dead is too much to bear, so Felix pushes himself out of bed. 

Sylvain is still alive, but Felix can still see the poison beneath his skin, can still hear him struggling for breath. The Professor is here, as well as Flayn, Manuela, and Linhardt. Dimitri and Dedue are in the corner, and Ingrid is curled up in a chair beside Sylvain’s bed, holding his hand. 

“What is it,” Felix says, shifting forward to better see Sylvain. “Did you figure out what’s wrong with him?”

Byleth comes over to him and, instead of answering, places her hand right on his chest and casts her own healing magic. Felix can feel strength being restored and lets out an inadvertent sigh in relief. 

“Did you find out about the poison?”

“Linhardt was able to find a book about poisons that described one that appears very similar to the one used on Sylvain. Him and Dedue were able to make an antidote. We’ve given it to Sylvain, but it’s not…” She sighs. “We don’t know if it’s an exact match. We don’t know if it was already too late for the antidote. There are too many variables. We are taking shifts to keep healing him with magic, as it seems to help, but all we can really do now is wait.”

The idea of waiting around for Sylvain to either get better or die sounds absolutely horrible. Felix doesn’t know if he can handle sitting around idle, so he stands up. Sylvain is looking better, but that’s relative to how horrible he had looked before. He still looks like death is hovering over him, pale skin, veins filled with poison, breath rattling in his chest. Felix forces himself to look away and at Dimitri. 

“Boar,” he says, voice only breaking a little. “Train with me.” He tries to keep the desperation out of his voice. He doesn’t want the room to know how close to breaking he is, and he definitely doesn’t want Dimitri to know how much Felix needs him right now. Felix has spent years trying to prove that Dimitri meant nothing to him, that he hated him, and he had, for a very long time. But Dimitri looks up at him, face open and concerned, and Felix, for the first time in a while, recognizes the barest flicker of his first best friend. 

Dimitri nods and stands up, following Felix out to the training grounds. Felix takes up his sword as Dimitri chooses from the lances, and when Dimitri gives him a nod Felix flies at him. 

He fights like a desperate man. His muscles scream out at him -- healing magic can certainly do a lot, but he’s still pushed his body beyond its capabilities today. But he still doesn’t stop, no matter how much pain he’s in. Dimitri doesn’t tell him to stop or slow down, which Felix is intensely grateful for. If he had, Felix will either try to actually kill him, or he’ll burst into tears. He doesn’t know which of those would be worse. Killing Dimitri would have bad consequences, but if Dimitri saw him cry Felix would probably have to throw himself off a cliff, or something. 

They continue to fight until Felix is shaking, and he finally calls it. Dimitri doesn’t seem that worn out, which is annoying. Felix puts his sword away and then collapses onto the ground, lying down and throwing an arm over his face. He hears Dimitri sit next to him, and they sit in not totally uncomfortable silence. When Felix’s breathing evens out again, Dimitri says, “I heard what he said.”

Felix sighs. “Just when I start thinking maybe I don’t hate you.”

Dimitri chuckles. “Doesn’t hurt as much when I know you don’t mean it.”

Felix can’t bring himself to argue about this. It’s not worth it. Whatever he feels about Dimitri is too complicated to be summed up as hatred, and he’s too tired to sort through it. So instead he just says, “It’s none of your business.”

“No,” Dimitri concedes, “but Sylvain is my friend. And you are too, even if you don’t want to think so.” Felix grunts his disapproval. “Which means I care about you.”

“What did I tell you about walking on your hind legs,” he says half-heartedly. 

“I know I’m in no position to offer you advice --”

“Then don’t offer it.”

“But I think… I think happiness is worth seizing.”

Felix swallows. “Do you think he meant it, then?”

There’s a silence that Felix interprets as Dimitri being taken off guard that Felix is actually talking to him. 

“Why wouldn’t he mean it?”

“It’s  _ Sylvain.” _

The door to the training grounds opens. Felix lifts his head to see Ingrid walk in. She stops when she sees Felix and Dimitri on the ground. “I thought you were training.”

“We were,” Dimitri says. “Now we’re talking about how Sylvain loves Felix.”

“I wish I had my fucking sword right now,” Felix mutters. Ingrid takes a seat next to him, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her cheek on them. 

“Everyone heard it, it isn’t a secret,” she says. Felix covers his face with his hands and screams. 

“Why are you here?”

“I thought training might take my mind off of everything,” she says. Felix sits up, extending one of his legs so his foot is pressed up against Dimitri’s side. He doesn’t move it; Dimitri’s small smile says he recognizes it for the shitty olive branch it is. 

“You’re too late,” Felix says. “I can’t lift my arms anymore.”

“Okay,” Ingrid says. “Then let’s talk about what Sylvain said to you.”

Felix moves to get up. “Maybe I can still train.”

Ingrid loops her arm through his and pulls him down before he can stand. She rests her head on his shoulder; it’s a display of affection neither of them are used to, but the situation calls for it, and also he’s pretty sure she’s doing it so he can’t escape the conversation. “Nice try,” she says. Felix sighs. 

“What did you mean, it’s Sylvain?” Dimitri asks. Felix raises an eyebrow. 

“Just what I said. It’s Sylvain. Sylvain tells a different woman he loves her three times a day. He didn’t mean it, and if he did, he didn’t mean it like that. This is a pointless conversation. I doubt the idiot even knows what love means.”

“Oh, that’s not fair and you know it,” Ingrid admonishes. “We all know why Sylvain acts the way he does with women. It’s a defense mechanism. His constant flirting makes even more sense now that I know he’s in love with you.”

“How do you figure that?” Dimitri asks, as if Felix weren’t fucking there. Ingrid sighs. 

“Neither of you know what it’s like, not really. To grow up, being told that the most important part of you is your Crest. I understand to an extent, but my father’s always loved me, always treated me well. We’ve all been told they were important, but Sylvain… the entire course of his life has been determined by his Crest. From the time he was born, he’s been told that it’s the most important thing about him. It destroyed his relationship with his brother. He thinks that the only reason anyone would ever be interested in him is because of his Crest. It’s why he treats girls so horribly. He chases them away before they can prove him right. He’s miserable, you know? We all see it.”

Felix and Dimitri nod. It isn’t hard to see past Sylvain’s facade of charm and carefreeness. 

“Sylvain has never been allowed to love who he wanted,” Ingrid continues. “He’s never been allowed to love you.”

Felix swallows around a lump in his throat. “Then why spring it on me now?”

Ingrid digs her pointy chin into his shoulder. “Maybe it took almost dying for him to realize he couldn’t live without you.”

Felix doesn’t answer this. He’s always known he couldn’t live without Sylvain. It’s why he’d made Sylvain promise never to leave him. 

_ The promise, you know? Might end up breaking it,  _ Sylvain had said. Felix must shiver, because Ingrid holds his arm even tighter. 

Dimitri looks at the two of them with an odd look on his face, before he finally says, “It’s not right. A world where who you are is less important than your blood… I’m going to change that. That is my promise to you both.”

Felix, very carefully, rests his head on top of Ingrid’s. He doesn’t pray, not really, but he can’t help it, just this once:  _ you can’t have him. Not him too. You’re not taking anyone else away from me.  _

* * *

Linhardt finds them to tell them that the antidote is working before, presumably, going to take a nap. Felix can’t blame him for that. Ingrid asks if Dimitri will train with her next, but Felix heads back up to the infirmary, wanting to see for himself that Sylvain is starting to get better. 

The only other person in the room is Mercedes. She is sitting next to Sylvain’s bed watching him, and when Felix sits across from her, she smiles at him.

“He’s looking much better, isn’t he?” She says softly. He really is -- Felix can no longer see his veins, and even if his breathing is shallower than usual, it’s a remarkable improvement from before. Felix watches Sylvain’s chest rise and fall before finally speaking. 

“Mercedes, I -- without you…”

“It’s okay,” she says. “You don’t have to say it.”

“I do,” he says. “You saved him. I can’t -- I don’t know how you did it. It wore out all of our healers but you never stopped. I don’t know how you found the strength, but you never gave up, and you never stopped, and he’s here because of you, and I can’t… I will never be able to thank you enough.”

“Hearing you say that is more than enough,” she says with a small laugh. “And maybe you can watch over him now, while I go rest.”

“Of course,” he says. “I can handle this.”

She gets up to leave, but before she leaves the room she turns back and says, “You know, Felix, I think it’s important, especially in a war, to keep the people that you love close to you.”

He groans. “Did everyone hear that?”

“No one has ever accused Sylvain of being quiet,” she says, with another quiet laugh. 

When he is left alone in the room, he leans back and crosses his arms, watching Sylvain’s face. He must fall asleep like that, because he is awoken by Sylvain crying out. 

“Stop,” Sylvain says, but his eyes are still closed. He must be having a nightmare. “Miklan, please, it hurts --”

Felix heart drops into his stomach and he grabs Sylvain’s hand. “Sylvain,” he says, as Sylvain continues to be tormented by his dead brother. “Sylvain, it’s not real, wake up.”

Sylvain’s eyes open; his pupils are blown wide. “Felix,” he says, and the way he says it, like it’s something holy, makes something flutter in Felix’s chest. “You’re holding my hand.”

“I am,” Felix says carefully. A ghost of a smile crosses Sylvain’s pale face. 

“I must be dying then, huh?”

“No, you’re going to be alright --” But Sylvain’s eyes have closed again, and with a sigh Felix sits back to continue watching over him. 

He doesn’t let go of his hand. 

* * *

It takes Sylvain two days before he becomes conscious again, and almost a week before he’s allowed to leave the infirmary. The poison may have left his body, but he still had a pretty nasty wound on his abdomen. He’s relegated to light duty, but it isn’t long until he’s back to his old self. 

Including the flirting. 

Felix watches this with a detached sort of annoyance. He doesn’t bring up what Sylvain had said to him, despite Ingrid and Dimitri’s prodding to do so. 

“You need to just talk to him. It’s the only thing that’s going to get you out of this funk.”

Felix scowls. “I’m not in a funk.”

“You are definitely in a funk,” Ingrid says. 

“I need new friends,” he mutters. 

“Oh? Are you saying we’re friends again?” Dimitri asks, in such a genuine way that Felix has to resist the urge to hit him. 

“I’m going to train,” is what he says, stalking off. He knows that Ingrid and Dimitri are probably talking about him, but he vows not to think about it. If Sylvain wanted to talk about it, he’d bring it up. And if he didn’t want to bring it up -- if he wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened -- then Felix wasn’t going to ruin that. 

His idea to take his mind off of all this bullshit by training is ruined when he enters the training grounds and sees Sylvain. He has a lance in his hands and is going through drills slowly, overexaggerating the movements to test his stamina. Felix debates turning around and leaving, but Sylvain spots him before he is able. 

“Felix! I was wondering when you were going to show up.”

Felix grabs a sword. He has a feeling he isn’t going to get much training done, but this gives him something to do with his hands. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Yes, actually.” Sylvain gives a nervous laugh. “I needed to talk to you, and I figured you’d show up here eventually.”

“Well,” Felix says, trying to keep his voice neutral and not give anything away. “Talk.”

“Er, right. Yeah. Okay.”

“Sylvain, I’m not going to hang around all day. Spit it out.”

“Right, yeah, okay. So, when I was sick. Did I… tell you anything? Or, uh. Any… confessions, maybe?”

Sylvain brings his arm up behind his head and then winces at the twinge of pain it must have caused due to his wound. Felix looks down at his sword, buying himself time. 

“Do you not remember?”

“It’s not exactly that, it’s just -- well, I can’t remember if it was a dream or not. I had a lot of really vivid dreams. Hard to tell what’s real.”

Felix remembers with extreme clarity the way Sylvain cried out his brother’s name. He clears his throat and thinks about what Ingrid and Dimitri would say if they were here. Then he promptly ignores that, because the two of them were nosy busybodies and he wasn’t going to do what they thought was best. He and Sylvain had gotten this far. He wasn’t going to be anybody but himself. 

“Yes,” he says, turning to Sylvain. “You did.”

Sylvain seems taken aback for a moment, like he hadn’t expected Felix to answer. “Um. Okay. And do you… how do you feel. About what I said.”

Inspiration hits Felix; Sylvain had put him through hell, after all, always being ridiculous and not taking his own safety seriously, and Felix had been in love with him for  _ years,  _ only to find out that apparently Sylvain had felt the same? He’s feeling a little bit vindictive. So he says, “I think that if you’re in love with Dimitri, that’s your business. I can’t say I approve, but when have you ever listened to me?”

Sylvain looks absolutely flabbergasted. “You -- I told you I was in love with Dimitri?”

Felix shrugs. “I don’t understand it either.”

“I don’t… remember that,” Sylvain says, deflating. “Why would I -- I’m not in love with Dimitri, why would I --”

The problem with knowing someone for your whole life is they get to know you very well. Felix doesn’t have many tells, but Sylvain is well versed in him and can read him better than almost anyone. The only one who had known Felix better was Glenn. So Sylvain cuts off and then glares daggers at Felix. 

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

Felix puts the sword away and grabs another, slightly heavier one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sylvain groans. “You’re the worst, do you know that? The absolute worst. I can’t believe how rude you are to me. I almost  _ died.” _

“Yes,” Felix says tightly. “I am aware.”

“Oh,” Sylvain says, in sudden understanding. “Oh. You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“I told you I was tired of close calls,” Felix says. Sylvain rubs at his face. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Eventually sorry isn’t going to cut it,” Felix snaps. “And it’s not fair --” He pauses to take a breath. “I don’t want anymore life changing revelations while you’re dying.”

Sylvain deflates. He rubs at his face and then nods. “Look, we can -- for all I know it was a hallucination, you know?” He plasters one of those infamous fake smiles on his face. “Never happened. Just another fever dream.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ha, yeah, exactly, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“No, you idiot, I’m being --” a thought occurs to Felix, and he puts the sword down and turns directly to Sylvain. ‘’Do you not know?”

Sylvain cocks his head. “Do I not know what?”

“You don’t, do you?” Felix shakes his head. “Unbelievable. You really are the most self-involved person I’ve ever met.”

“Okay, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

That Sylvain could go through life with his head so far up his own ass that he hadn’t realized that Felix was in love with him shouldn’t be surprising, and yet. 

Felix smiles. This only seems to confuse Sylvain even more. “Why are you smiling? You never smile. Should I be worried?”

“Did you mean it?” He asks. Sylvain looks him in the eye and nods. 

“Completely,” he says, his voice low and utterly serious. Felix can’t believe he loves him so much, this utterly ridiculous man. 

He walks towards Sylvain. “You’re not going to punch me, are you?” He says nervously. Felix rolls his eyes, grabs him by the front of his shirt, and kisses him on the mouth. 

Let it never be said that Sylvain Gautier didn’t know how to kiss. His body seems to react before his mind does, dropping the lance as his arms come to wrap snugly around Felix before he even begins to kiss back. Felix, whose kissing experience consisted of this right here, and nothing else, happily lets him take the lead, fingers clenched tight in the fabric of Sylvain’s shirt. 

When they pull away, Sylvain leans forward to rest his forehead on Felix’s. “What don’t I know?”

“That I’ve loved you for years, moron.”

Sylvain grins, a true grin this time. “Really?”

“I’m not happy about it either.”

Sylvain pinches him and then kisses him again. Felix reluctantly pulls away. “But I swear to the Goddess that if you ever pull a stunt like that again, it’s over.”

“A stunt? I didn’t exactly  _ mean  _ to get stabbed, Felix.” But at Felix’s unrelenting glare, Sylvain sighs. “Okay. I’m sorry. Can I kiss you again?”

Felix slides a hand into Sylvain’s hair and kisses him. When they pull away, Sylvain brushes hair out of Felix’s eyes, smiling softly. “Together til we die, right? I want to get as much out of that promise as possible.”

Felix fights to remain annoyed. “And next time you have something to tell me, don’t want until you’re on your deathbed, alright?”

Sylvain laughs at that, putting his fingers underneath Felix’s chin and tilting his head up. His eyes are so, so bright, and Felix fights to get rid of the image he has in his mind of Sylvain convulsing on the bed. He’s okay, now. He’s here, alive, a thumb tracing lightly over Felix’s lips. “Guess that means I should tell you that the one who broke your favourite sword when we were little was me, not Dimitri.”

Felix glares. “What.”

“Well you wouldn’t let me use it! So one day you were with your father and Dimitri and I were in the training grounds and you had left your sword there, and I used it, but you know bad I was with a sword! And I just kind of -- well. And then Dimitri said he’d take the blame, because you could never stay mad at him, and --” Felix pulls away and grabs a sword before picking up Sylvain’s lance and handing it to him. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Felix says calmly. “And then I’m going to kill Dimitri.”

“I’m still injured! You can’t kill me, it wouldn’t be a fair fight, and besides, then I couldn’t kiss you anymore.”

“I’d live,” Felix says. It’s a lie, and they both know it. Sylvain puts the lance down again and cups Felix’s cheeks between his hands. 

“I have much better ideas about what we can do.”

“Thought you said you were injured?” 

Sylvain kisses him. It’s something Felix doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. “I’ll buy you a new sword,” he says against Felix’s lips. Felix rolls his eyes.

“You owe me.”

“I can most definitely pay you back,” Sylvain says with a wink. When he pulls Felix in again, Felix rests his hand on Sylvain’s stomach lightly, feeling the bandages, remembering the way his eyes had bulged at the ceiling, the knowledge that he might  _ die.  _ Sylvain covers Felix’s hand with his own and pulls him close, and Felix focuses on this instead: them, together, the way they’re supposed to be. Alive. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @aravenlikeawritingdesk  
twitter @felixfraldaddy


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